


No One Ever Talked in the Darkness

by Verasteine



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Childhood, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always something in Merlin's eyes, a shadow that Arthur doesn't quite understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Ever Talked in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/) prompt, _Merlin is an abuse survivor and has never told Arthur. When they get serious, Merlin struggles with confessing it all._ Much gratitude to my beta, [](http://misswinterhill.livejournal.com/profile)[**misswinterhill**](http://misswinterhill.livejournal.com/), who made this the best it could be, and whose warnings came in very handy halfway through. Thank you. Lyrics at the top and providing the title belong to Sarah McLachlan, from her song, "I Will Not Forget You".
> 
> Please note this fic contains discussions of sexual assault.

_I remember the nights I watched as you lay sleeping  
Your body gripped by some far away dream  
Well, I was so scared and so in love then  
And so lost in all of you that I had seen  
But no one ever talked in the darkness..._  
\--

Merlin likes rain.

He laughs when it rains, and shakes it out of his hair, and for the first time in his life, Arthur laughs while standing in the wetness falling from the sky.

They met three months ago, in the library, and Arthur had mostly ignored the kid with the ears until Merlin smiled, and his smile lit up the whole room.

Arthur had boldly chased after him and asked him out on the spot.

They'd met for coffee, then dinner, then coffee again, then lunch, then... Then there'd been a snog to end all snogs in Arthur's dorm room, and he'd known that Merlin was special.

Because Merlin likes rain. And Merlin likes alternative comedy, which Arthur doesn't understand. And Merlin says that's okay, and punches his arm, and reaches past Arthur for more popcorn because Arthur likes hogging the bowl. And Merlin is okay with that, too.

Merlin likes rain. And Merlin seems to like Arthur, too.

\--

They're three weeks shy of their six month anniversary, when it happens.

They're snogging on Arthur's bed, and he's just thinking he's really beginning to know Merlin's body well, when Merlin suddenly pulls away.

"Stop," he says aloud, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Arthur sits up in surprise, having gone in a few seconds from his hands splayed comfortably under Merlin's t-shirt to watching the curved line of Merlin's spine as he stares at Arthur's floor.

"What's up?"

Merlin glances over his shoulder, eyes near unreadable. There's something in them, a spark of hurt, a tightening around the eyes, and then Merlin looks away again.

Arthur reaches out with one hand, holding it over Merlin's back for a bit, before dropping it back on the covers. There's something about the definitive way Merlin's turned away from him that keeps him from offering the touch. "Merlin?" he asks, trying to keep his voice level.

Merlin shrugs in reply, which is no reply at all. "I have to go," he says, and stands, looking around for his shoes.

"What?" Arthur sits up properly now.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbles, not looking at him, pulling on his trainers.

Arthur swings his legs from the bed and tries to reach Merlin in time before he leaves. Merlin pulls away from his questing fingers and shuts the door decisively behind him.

\--

He toys with the idea of phoning Merlin that evening, but lets it go. He hasn't a clue what to say, or whether to treat this as a serious thing. So, mature as he is, he gives it a day or two.

He's just beginning to think they've broken up without Merlin telling him, when Merlin rings.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday," he says, unprompted.

Arthur wants to say something, but doesn't know what. Finally, he tries, "Was it something I did?" He hates that his voice wavers a little on the words.

"No," Merlin says too quickly. "It wasn't you."

"Okay," Arthur replies slowly, and then adds, "You're okay, though?"

"Yes," Merlin responds, too quickly again. "I'm fine."

"Wanna come over?"

"Do you want me to?"

Arthur scoffs. "Of course I do."

\--

The incident's almost completely vanished from his mind by the time the second thing happens.

It's been raining cats and dogs, because this is England, and rain is its default setting. Arthur grumbles about his essay getting wet in his bag, and Merlin laughs at him and tells him to buy a proper waterproof one, like the rest of Oxford.

Arthur shoves him in annoyance.

Merlin smiles and shoves him back.

They tangle up in each other against the brick wall of one of the lecture halls, shoving turning into pulling each other closer, Merlin's hands on Arthur's hips under his jacket, Arthur's fingers tangling in Merlin's dark hair.

He leans in to kiss Merlin, watches a raindrop trace a pattern down Merlin's face, staring into Merlin's eyes, alive with mirth and something else, something indefinable.

Merlin's eyes tighten, he starts to pull back, one hand dropping from Arthur's side. Arthur pulls him forward again, brings their mouths together. He licks against Merlin's bottom lip and Merlin yanks his head back suddenly, eyes wide.

He steps back, pulling back hard, and Arthur drops his grip, lets him go. "Merlin?" he says, suddenly worried.

"It's-- I'm--" Merlin stammers, bringing fingers to his lip and touching gingerly. "I've got to go."

"What?" Arthur asks, but Merlin turns and breaks into a run, running away from him down the street.

\--

He calls Merlin that evening, worried proper. Merlin doesn't answer, not once in the four times Arthur calls. Then he calls back at eleven.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight.

"Merlin," Arthur replies, anger riding the edge of his voice, "what the fuck is going on?"

"It's--" Merlin's voice stumbles. "Don't worry about me, okay, Arthur?"

Arthur gapes for a moment, like a fish. "What?"

"Just-- Don't worry," Merlin repeats. "I'm fine."

"Wait--" Arthur says, but Merlin's hung up on him.

\--

He's contrite and apologetic, three days later, when he comes to Arthur's with cans of lager and microwave popcorn and dvds, and Arthur lets him in.

They make it through the first film without incident, the fragile peace between them, wherein Arthur doesn't ask and Merlin doesn't offer, slowly stretching into companionship and maybe acceptance.

By the time Arthur slides the second disc into the player, Merlin curls up closer to him, one hand on Arthur's abdomen under his shirt. Arthur's hand plays with the hair at Merlin's nape, and he contentedly eats popcorn with the other.

Halfway through the second film, Merlin presses closer, kissing Arthur's jaw, sliding his hand down Arthur's jeans.

He shifts to accommodate Merlin, is surprised when Merlin crawls down the bed and unzips him, taking him into his mouth.

Arthur gestures aimlessly, distractedly, at the television. "Should I--"

Merlin pulls off to look at him, face unreadable, shuttered. "No, you keep on watching."

Arthur frowns, but the frown disappears quickly when Merlin reapplies himself. He comes, embarrassingly quickly, and Merlin lets him come in his mouth, something they've never done before.

"Hey," Arthur says, cupping Merlin's jaw, trying to coax him back up. "C'me here."

Merlin shimmies back up, and Arthur leans in to kiss him, but Merlin turns his face away, Arthur's mouth landing under his ear instead. Arthur smoothes a hand down Merlin's side, letting him have his quirks, but when he cups Merlin's arse, Merlin stills his hand and pulls it away from his body.

Arthur frowns at him, pulling back to look at the expression on Merlin's face. He thinks he sees guilt, and wants to say something, when Merlin says, "Watch the film. I'm fine."

\--

He keeps a closer eye on Merlin after that, but it's hard, because exams are coming up and they're both studying. Merlin's veterinary exams require a lot more revising than Arthur's English degree, and Arthur doesn't want to distract his boyfriend from uni work.

Merlin doesn't seem to be interested in anyone else, and since the last incident, he's been his usual charming, outgoing self. Arthur doesn't understand it, but also doesn't want to risk anything by asking Merlin if he wants to break up. Truth be told, he doesn't really want the answer to that at all.

Once exams are over, they go with their friends to the student union bar, to celebrate.

For the first time in as long as Arthur's known him, Merlin gets roaring drunk.

He winds up leaning heavily on Arthur as they make their way home, and at one point Merlin staggers, clutching Arthur's arm. "You don't know," he says, slurring his words, pointing one finger at Arthur's face. "You have no idea."

Arthur's veins run ice cold all of a sudden; he stops stock still. "Don't know what?"

Merlin smiles, but it's oh so sad. For a moment, Arthur thinks Merlin is going to confess to cheating, or something worse, even if he can't put a name to what might be worse. Merlin opens his mouth, and says, "I can't tell you."

He stumbles away from Arthur, and Arthur follows.

\--

They both go home for the break, and Arthur doesn't try to think too much about it, but fails. It's on his mind, those little things, Merlin's half confession, his strange behaviour of late. Four times he picks up the phone to ring Merlin and just ask him outright; four times he puts the phone down, afraid of the answer, afraid of Merlin laughing at him and telling him nothing's wrong.

On his fifth day home, Merlin wakes him by phoning in the middle of the night.

Arthur fumbles for his mobile, trying to get to it before it wakes the whole house, and flicks on his bedside lamp as he answers. "Merlin?"

"You're there," Merlin says with a sigh, and his voice sounds small.

"Yes," Arthur answers in annoyance. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," Arthur snaps. He's tired of worrying, of seeing shadows where there maybe are none.

"Sorry," Merlin says.

"What's going on?" Arthur prompts.

"I didn't think I'd have to tell you." Merlin takes a deep breath, audible over the line. "I really thought I wouldn't have to."

"Tell me what?" Arthur rubs a hand through his hair. "Merlin, jesus..."

"Can't tell you over the phone," Merlin mumbles, maddeningly.

"When will you tell me?" Arthur bites his lip, and steels himself. "Are you breaking up with me? Is that it?"

"What?" Merlin sounds stunned. "No. Why, do you want to?"

"No," Arthur says, still wary. "No, I don't."

"I'll tell you back at uni." Merlin's voice is low, then drops to near-inaudible. "I'll tell you then."

\--

There's a flurry of activity when they're back; new classes, new schedules, books, assignments. Arthur pushes, but it takes a few days before Merlin makes time to see him again, and Arthur is shocked when he catches sight of Merlin.

His boyfriend has dark circles under his eyes, his hair is standing up like he's run his hands through it several times already that day, and the taut lines around his eyes signify his tension.

"Merlin," Arthur says, taking him by the elbow without thinking about it and steering him to a quiet corner of the coffee shop. It had been Merlin's choice, this public meet up, but now Arthur wishes for the privacy of either of their dorm rooms.

"Hey," Merlin replies, and lets himself be steered.

Arthur decides not to be worried about that for now, and instead gets them coffees, watching as Merlin dumps a heap of sugar in his.

Merlin stirs carefully, his slender fingers white around the spoon. Arthur waits him out. Finally, Merlin looks up from under his fringe, hesitant still.

Arthur gives him a slight smile, because if they aren't breaking up, then whatever is going on is-- He doesn't quite know.

"I thought," Merlin begins slowly, deliberately, "I'd never have to tell another person in my life."

Arthur wants to reach out and take his hand, take Merlin's nervous fingers away from the spoon he's still clenching. But they've never been the hand holding type, and he isn't sure now. He nods instead.

Merlin looks down at his cup again, renews the stirring. "I really did, Arthur."

"What is it?" he asks, unable to keep silent. "What's going on, Merlin?"

Merlin sighs, eyes bright with something, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "Arthur, I--" Merlin stops again, and looks up properly, straight at Arthur, and says, "When I was thirteen, someone molested me."

Arthur's breath catches in his throat, his veins freeze to ice, and he stares uncomprehendingly.

"I-- I didn't-- It wasn't--" Merlin takes a deep breath and continues speaking, voice flat. "I didn't want it. It wasn't like that. He was a teacher at my school, and he-- he went to prison, and I'm here, and I'm okay, usually, and--"

At last, Arthur manages to shake the paralysis that has gripped him, and reaches out to lay his hand over Merlin's still stirring fingers, to stem the torrent of Merlin's too rapid words.

Merlin closes his mouth, looks at him, then looks down at their hands.

Arthur curls his fingers around Merlin's, lifts their joined hands from the cup, and rests them on the table. He clears his throat and finds words. "I'm sorry," he says to Merlin, and when Merlin looks up again, he holds his gaze. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

\--

They're in Merlin's dorm room, and there, too, are the traces of Merlin's recent distress; bags still unpacked on the floor, books stacked haphazardly on surfaces, sweet wrappers taking up space on the floor.

Arthur stares for a brief moment, absorbing it all. His legs feel numb, but his mind is whirling, a strange sensation that isn't fear sitting in the pit of his stomach. He isn't sure if the not knowing was worse than the knowledge he's been given now.

Then he looks at Merlin, who stands by the door, arms wrapped around his waist, huddled in his light jacket, still looking at Arthur only from under his fringe.

Arthur reaches out, holds out one hand carefully.

Merlin steps forward and gives him a wry smile. "I'm not a different person from who I was two weeks ago."

Arthur feels himself flush. "I know that."

Merlin sighs, but he takes Arthur's hand before Arthur can let it drop to his side again. And Arthur pulls him closer with it, wraps his arms around Merlin's still, tense form. After a moment, Merlin softens a little, moulding himself to Arthur's body.

They stand like that for a while, until Merlin pulls back.

"I mean it," he says, looking at Arthur straight on. "Don't treat me differently."

Arthur nods, seriously. He waits for a moment, stifles a few impulses, then determinedly reaches out and runs his fingers through Merlin's soft hair. Merlin tilts his head into the touch, and Arthur tries a smile.

Merlin smiles back.

\--

A week passes, and Arthur quietly absorbs the information he's been given. He googles, trying to understand, to gain information, but what he comes back with is mostly just a sour taste in his mouth, and the sense that there is too little compassion in the world.

Merlin is the same person he always was.

The same, except that the look he has on his face sometimes, when he thinks no one's watching and he's staring off into space, makes a lot more sense. The same, except that the times he turns his face away when Arthur wants to kiss him, in public or in bed, make a lot more sense. The same, except that the three phone calls he gets a week from his mother, the phone calls Arthur used to mock a little, make a lot more sense, too.

They lie in bed together, both too tired for sex, but Arthur has managed to convince Merlin to stay anyway, because Merlin has those lines around his eyes that Arthur now understands, also, and Arthur has one arm slung over Merlin's waist, while Merlin stares up at the ceiling.

"How many people know?" he asks.

Merlin flicks his eyes to him, before resuming his pensive stare. "I don't know."

Arthur frowns. "How can you not know?"

Merlin half shrugs. "There were lawyers and police involved. I don't know."

"Sorry." Arthur rubs his nose against Merlin's bare shoulder. Merlin shifts a little under his touch.

"I only told four people myself. I mean," Merlin glances sideways again, "by myself. Without prompting."

Arthur is a little awed by that number, once he realises he's counted among them.

"My English teacher, Mrs. Gloucester," Merlin continues, "my mum, my best friend Will, and you."

Arthur feels Merlin's tension under his hand, and rubs a thumb over the warm, quivering skin of Merlin's stomach. "You told your English teacher?"

Merlin turns his head away, and then, after a moment, rolls onto his side, away from Arthur.

Arthur stays in place for a moment, unsure, then rolls with him, wrapping his arm around Merlin's waist again, tightly this time, holding Merlin close. He says nothing.

Merlin shifts back against him a little, accepting the embrace. His voice is hoarse when he speaks. "She-- She was the only one who-- She saw something was wrong."

Arthur presses his lips to the shell of Merlin's right ear.

"You can't understand how it is," Merlin says, like stating facts, but with a raw hurt to his voice that Arthur wants to take away. "I thought the world would know, after the first time. I thought everyone would see what had happened, that it was right there on my face, that they could tell." He breathes out, slowly. "It was like I'd been-- Like everything was torn apart, inside me, and no one saw it."

Arthur rubs circles over Merlin's abdomen. "What about your mum?"

Merlin sighs. "She thought there was something wrong. And then I started acting out, and she thought it was just puberty."

Arthur tries to think back to his own childhood, himself in puberty, and remembers mostly defiance and door slamming, and then later, lots of alcohol. But he hadn't carried with him what Merlin carried, carries.

"Mrs. Gloucester--" Merlin's voice trails off. He clears his throat. "She said she saw it in my writing."

"Did she ask?"

"Yes." Merlin takes another measured breath, and Arthur doesn't need to see his eyes to know there are tears in them. "She sat me down and asked. And I didn't want to tell her, only she said--"

Merlin breaks off, a sound like a sob catching in his throat. Arthur tightens his hold and asks, "What did she say?"

Merlin's voice trembles. "She said that some things were too big for just one person to hold, and I should say them just to keep them from becoming too large to fit inside me. And that saying it aloud didn't make anything less or more true."

Arthur doesn't think his own teachers were ever that profound, and wonders about this woman who saw all that in Merlin. But he holds Merlin, trembling, in his arms, and knows he sees all that and more in him, too. "So you told her?" he says, and his own voice is raspy.

"Yes," Merlin answers simply. "I told her."

\--

Really, life does continue as it always did, and the information does change and does not change all of what's between them. He feels like he knows Merlin better now, but also like his knowledge doesn't change who Merlin is, was, at all.

It's confusing, but not something he can share with anyone else.

And if at times, Merlin catches him looking, well, they don't talk about it much any more.

Not until the news story.

Arthur has never thought about it; it's a habit he picked up from his father, watching the eight o' clock news every day. And he turns it on without thinking about it, as he sits down on one of Merlin's two bean bags.

He must have seen news reports like this a hundred times.

It's item number four, the newsreader looking appropriately grave as she talks about arrests made at a primary school near Glasgow. A principal, they say, accused of molesting several pupils, police are still investigating.

It takes Arthur a second or two to realise it, for his blood to turn to ice, and then he hits the mute button as the images of a low school building, the children's faces blurred out of focus on purpose, continue to roll across the screen.

Merlin stands, just behind him, plates of Chinese takeaway in both his hands.

Arthur can't read his expression, as he sits twisted away from the screen, but Merlin's eyes are glued to the television and he doesn't say anything.

Then he shakes himself and moves to sit down next to Arthur, handing over one of the plates. "Dinner," he adds, voice flat.

"Merlin--" Arthur says, noting that the newsreader has moved on to the next item, some natural disaster somewhere.

"I don't want to talk about it," Merlin interrupts, stabbing his fork into his food.

Arthur takes another measuring look, then turns the sound back on.

\--

That night, Merlin presses him down into the mattress and gives him a bruising kiss.

This time, it's Arthur who turns his face away. He tries to gentle Merlin's aggression, because he can't ignore, any more, the tight lines around Merlin's eyes.

Merlin smiles, but it's hollow, and Arthur reaches up to grasp Merlin's shoulder.

"Hey," he says, trying for light and failing, "slow down."

Merlin shakes his head and leans in for another kiss. Arthur is distracted, for a moment, by the wet heat of Merlin's mouth and the things that Merlin, like this, does to his body.

When they break for air, he pulls away, sliding up to rest against the headboard. "Why are you doing this?"

Merlin narrows his eyes. "Stop asking so many questions."

Arthur presses his lips together. "Merlin."

"I'm the same person I always was," Merlin repeats.

"Yes," Arthur says. "But the news-- you--"

"What?" Merlin sits back on his heels, eyes flashing with anger. "Because now you _know_?"

"Yes!" Arthur shoots back, and then they sit there, staring at each other.

"Well, thanks a lot," Merlin replies sarcastically. After a moment, he takes a deep breath. "I'd like you to go now, please."

Arthur opens his mouth to protest, but if there's anything he's learned from the more useful sites google spat out, it's that what Merlin is hiding in his eyes right now is a little bit of fear. "Okay," he says, and extracts himself, finding his clothes and pulling them on.

"I--" he adds, when he's near the door, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. "I'll ring you tomorrow."

Merlin doesn't look at him, still kneeling on the bed.

\--  
He doesn't ring Merlin, but texts him a short note of apology.

Merlin phones him up. "You can't decide for me, Arthur," he says.

"I know."

Merlin sighs. "I'm more than my past."

"I know that, too. Merlin... I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah."

Arthur waits, but nothing more follows. "It's your decision," he says.

" _Yes_." Merlin sounds adamant. "My decision."

"Can I come over?" Arthur asks.

"Yes," Merlin replies.

And when he fucks Merlin into the mattress, that afternoon, he doesn't think about anything at all, except the taste of the sweat running down Merlin's back, the muscles rippling under his skin, and the sounds Merlin makes when he comes.

\--

"Will you come home with me?" Merlin asks him, out of the blue.

Easter break is coming up, and Arthur could go home except he doesn't really fancy it. His father's already announced he'll have to work a lot of the time, and Arthur doesn't think a long weekend of studying and playing Wii will be any more interesting in an empty mansion than his uni dorm room.

"What?" he asks, not sure he's heard it right.

"Will you come home with me?" Merlin repeats patiently, and adds, "My mum would like to meet you."

He could go home. Or he could spend the weekend with Merlin. The idea of four days without Merlin in an empty house doesn't appeal at all, and he finds himself nodding. "Sure."

Merlin reaches across the table and pulls him into a sloppy kiss.

\--

They take the train, and they spend a lot of the time doing silly things, like reprogramming each other's ringtones and commenting under their breath on where other passengers might be going.

Merlin's eyes are shining, the closer they get to Cumbria, and when they start passing hills and lakes, Merlin gets this soft smile that Arthur just has to kiss.

A woman across the aisle smiles at them when they come apart. Merlin smiles back.

Arthur feels a little giddy, and wonders when the last time was he felt like that.

\--

Merlin's mother is a down to earth sort of woman, with a quick smile and ready welcome who intimidates Arthur by sheer motherliness alone.

He likes her, he thinks, as she tells him to call her Hunith since she was never Mrs. Emrys to begin with, and Arthur blushes at that, but Merlin doesn't seem to care.

"You boys have a good trip?" she asks as she pulls out of the station parking area, a glance in the rear view mirror taking in them both.

"Yes, thank you," Arthur says politely, and Merlin rolls his eyes and says, "It was fine, mum. Long, as always."

"Well," she replies, and her smile and the twinkle in her eye is so much her son's, Arthur's heart misses a beat, "you were the one who chose to go live so far away."

Merlin laughs, bright and unfettered.

\--

On Easter Sunday, Arthur wakes up early because he's genetically incapable of sleeping late. When he makes his way downstairs, he finds Hunith making breakfast.

"Can I help?" he asks.

She looks up and smiles, rolling croissant dough into the right shape. "Good morning, Arthur. Yes, if you know how to cook eggs?"

He smiles. "Of course I do."

They work side by side, and she asks him about what he's reading at uni and his family. He tries to answer without giving too much away, a habit that's too ingrained to break. Hunith doesn't seem to mind. She asks how he met Merlin, and he tells her, about Merlin's book bag giving out and spilling onto Arthur's toes.

She laughs, and the lines around her eyes look like her son's.

"You like him," she says, and her gaze is sharp.

"Yes," Arthur replies, not having to think about it much at all. "A lot."

"Merlin's never brought someone home before," she adds.

"I thought so."

Hunith reaches past him to turn the fire down under the eggs. "He mentioned that he told you."

He doesn't have to ask what about. "He did." When he glances at her, the pain is writ on her face. "Hunith," he says, and then doesn't know what to tell her. There are no words to reassure her, and that's not his place. Merlin, fragile Merlin, asleep upstairs. Not so fragile as some might think, and his, Arthur thinks, with sudden clarity, absolutely his.

She's looking at him, her expression unreadable, but fond, and Arthur wonders if the revelation he just had is clearly visible on his face.

"He's okay," he says finally.

"I know," she replies, and her smile is crooked, sad.

Arthur startles himself by reaching out and giving her a quick hug. They're a strange pair, reunited by Merlin, who takes that moment to shuffle into the kitchen. Pyjama bottoms hanging low off his hipbones, hair mussed, shirt twisted and wrinkled, he yawns and stops short when he sees them together.

"Huh?" he says eloquently, and Hunith ruffles his hair. "Hi, mum," Merlin says, voice raspy from sleep, and kisses her cheek. "Happy Easter."

"You, too," his mother replies.

Merlin looks past her, at Arthur, who smiles at him because right there, in front of him, is the man he loves, past and all. Merlin takes a shy step forward, and Arthur reaches out to pull him close, not caring for once about the presence of Merlin's mother. He gives Merlin a soft kiss, and says, "Good morning." His voice is rough, and Merlin narrows his eyes.

"Morning," he replies lightly. "Everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Arthur says. "Eggs are nearly done."

"Good," Merlin says, and gives him a lopsided smile.

Over Merlin's shoulder, Arthur catches Hunith's eyes, soft and warm, tears shining in them, but she doesn't look sad any more.

\--

Merlin takes him to Ullswater, that afternoon, driving his mother's car with competent hands, thoughtful, cautious, but with a smile for the countryside they pass.

Arthur lets him, and when they walk around the lake for a bit, Merlin kicking at the stones on the ground, scarf around his neck against the spring chill, he says, "I used to come here a lot, growing up."

Arthur nods, looks at the peaceful stillness of the almost ripple-less expanse of water.

Merlin glances at him, before letting his gaze slide over the surface. "Especially after... When the police..." He sighs. "When I--"

"You don't have to say it," Arthur feels the need to interject.

Merlin stops in the middle of the path, turning to face him. "I know."

"Not for me, I mean," Arthur adds. "I know I... But you don't have to talk, if you don't want to. I know enough."

Merlin shakes his head at that, but doesn't say anything. He turns back around and starts walking again, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "It's the sort of place," he says, voice so low Arthur has to walk closer to hear him, "that you can hear your heartbeat."

Arthur looks sideways to see Merlin swallow. He reaches into Merlin's pocket, and curls his fingers over Merlin's right hand. "Yes," he says softly. "It is."

"I used to come here," Merlin says, "when I was tired of talking about it. There was this time... when it seemed a different person wanted to talk to me every day. Police officers, solicitors, social workers... I just wanted away from it all. I wanted it to end."

Arthur squeezes his fingers.

Merlin looks at him. "In a way, it's never going to end. It's always going to be a part of me. I think I've accepted that, and you--"

Arthur stops them, and faces him. "Merlin," he says, and there's a lump in his throat because of the hurt he sees in Merlin's eyes, and he wants, not only to take that away, but to find whoever put that there, and hurt them back. He squeezes Merlin's fingers again, and Merlin turns his hand over to link them together. "I love you," Arthur confesses.

Merlin smiles. He glances at the lake beside them, and then back at Arthur. "Me, too."

Arthur can't find any more words. He was never good with them anyway. He leans in to kiss Merlin, pulling him closer by their joined hands, still hidden in the warmth of Merlin's jacket pocket, and wraps his free arm around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin's scarf itches his face, and Merlin's laugh rings close to his ear. Merlin shifts his head so he fits in the crook of Arthur's neck, and right there, in that moment, Arthur holds the world in his arms.

"I think," Merlin says, "that we're gonna be okay."

Arthur takes a deep breath, smelling Merlin's shampoo and aftershave, a blend that's uniquely Merlin, and presses his cheek against Merlin's hair. He can see the future, he thinks, the future of the two of them, and he thinks, like Merlin, that it could be possible.

"Yeah," he breathes into Merlin's hair. "Yeah, we will."

\--  
 _finis._


End file.
